


Hospitality

by Still_and_Clear



Series: In the Basin [7]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/M, Romance, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-28
Updated: 2014-08-28
Packaged: 2018-02-15 03:35:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2214288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Still_and_Clear/pseuds/Still_and_Clear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frederick entertains Freddie at home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hospitality

**Author's Note:**

> More Fred-Squared. Post-hospital, but before they are formally together. I've tried to keep Frederick as in character as I possibly could. He thinks a ton of himself - but he can be woefully socially inept - and I think this ineptitude has probably led to a lack of success in his romantic endeavours (witness his catastophic attempt to flirt with Alana Bloom, for example :D). I hope there's a least some of his oddly charming combination of smugness and insecurity here. :)

Frederick fussed with the flowers on the side table for the fourth time. He had been unable to meet Miss Lounds at their usual haunt for their article preparation – something to do with remodelling or redecoration – and had hastily suggested his house as an alternative, reluctant to pass up on their regular lunchtime appointment, as well as seizing on the unexpected opportunity of showing off his house to Miss Lounds, whom he was keen to impress. He had contemplated choosing something from his wine cellar, but she had said she would be driving. Aside from that, passing the room still made his back prickle with sweat and his stomach heave, which was not conducive to the image he wanted to project today.

He heard the crunch of gravel as Miss Lounds’ car approached slowly up the driveway, and glanced quickly out the window before heading to the door to welcome her. His smile faltered a little as he opened the door and saw her, rather paler than usual, a little dark under the eyes, and lacking her usual…..vivacity? Sparkle? Whatever that sharp brightness was that he had developed a taste for over the last few weeks. He furrowed his brow in concern.

“Miss Lounds? Are you quite well?”

She smiled rather wanly.

“I had a tip-off about a good story on Tuesday. I drove for 7 hours, stood in the rain all day, trying to prise information from local law enforcement, slept in my car, and then drove back. The glamour of criminal justice journalism.”

He tutted. “You should have let me know, Miss Lounds – it would have been no trouble to cancel."

She frowned, and rubbed her forehead tiredly. “No – I looked forward to this all day yesterday, standing in all that rain – I didn’t want to cancel.”

Frederick allowed himself a satisfied grin behind her back as he helped her remove her coat. A fatigued Miss Lounds was apparently much less guarded than a well-rested Miss Lounds. He smugly stored this useful fact away for future use. Frederick had noticed, during her hospital visits, that while Miss Lounds was quick-tongued, what she said was well-considered, and she gave very little away that she did not choose to. As for himself, Frederick was aware – and Will Graham had not bothered to hide his enjoyment in pointing it out to him – that he was poor at hiding his machinations, and prone to letting his emotions parade across his face. This had made him feel at rather a disadvantage as the weeks had passed, convinced he must be broadcasting his interest to Miss Lounds loud and clear, while she held her cards close to her chest. She had flirted, definitely, but perhaps she flirted with all her interviewees? Frederick had started to second-guess himself, analysing every interaction in minute detail. However, their meetings outside the hospital had gone well, and he had turned his attention of late to how best to continue their relationship after the article was written. This new little piece of information – that Miss Lounds looked forward to their time together, that the anticipation of their meeting had been the bright spot in a dismal day – made an agreeable warmth expand in his chest.

“Well, then,” he said smoothly, keen to take control of the situation now he felt on slightly firmer ground, “perhaps we could stick to discussing the broader outline today – leave the more taxing details until next time?”

She smiled gratefully. “Sounds good.” 

Her voice was scratchy with tiredness. He hastened to offer her a drink. Frederick enjoyed playing host, although he rarely had the opportunity.

“Something to drink, Miss Lounds? Coffee might not be the best idea – you’ll only hit a caffeine dip later.” He remembered that she tended to order green tea when they met. “I have just the thing.”

He ushered her through to the kitchen. Her eyes looked soft – almost affectionate - as he took her through, his hand brushing her elbow. He was aware that his enthusiasm was the virtual antithesis to Hannibal’s polished nonchalance – which had impressed so many - but Miss Lounds didn’t seem to mind it at all. He reached up into the cupboard and brought down the Japanese tea set he had bought, not - to be honest -because he often drank tea, but because he thought it would look rather striking in his glass kitchen cabinet.

Miss Lounds perched herself on one of the kitchen stools to watch him. “Very pretty,” she said.

“Isn’t it?” Frederick said. “Now, what would you like?” He opened another cupboard and, with a flourish, brought out a little wooden box, full of packets of loose-leaf tea, each wrapped in brown paper. After hearing about his..... encounter with Gideon, his brother seemed intent on sending him a lifetime’s supply of his strange remedies to help him recuperate – these ones blended as teas. While Frederick, as a respected medical professional was – of course – _deeply_ sceptical of Alfredo’s outlandish claims that his tinctures and mixtures could bring about happiness, he couldn’t deny that these regular gestures of his brother’s affection did lift his mood – the little parcels in the post reminding him that someone did care for him. He felt a corner of his mouth tug upwards into a smile, and resolved to visit the odd little apothecary store Alfredo had opened sooner than he had intended. 

“I had no idea you were such a connoisseur, Dr Chilton,” said Miss Lounds. She seemed impressed by the variety, her slim fingers flicking through the little packets of tea, looking at the neat copperplate writing on each. “I do like teas.”

“I noticed," he said, smugly. Frederick decided to ask Alfredo to make a custom blend for Miss Lounds - this would doubtless delight his sentimental brother - which he could then give her as a gift for the excessive time she had taken over his interviews. His confidence in himself buoyed by this plan, he added, “And please, Miss Lounds, call me Frederick.”

“Frederick,” said Miss Lounds, smiling. “You should call me Freddie, then.” 

He grinned back at her, feeling just slightly giddy, and busied himself with the teapot.

*********************

They headed through to his living room with their tea, Frederick insisting that the sofa would be more comfortable for her, given how tired she was. He was genuinely solicitous of her well-being, as well as surreptitiously trying to show off as much of his house as possible. He was gratified by her compliments as they sat down together on his sofa.

“You have a beautiful home, Frederick.” Freddie’s eyes flitted round the room.

He puffed his chest a little as he thanked her. “The FBI seemed stunned when I wanted to return home. They had offered to help me make quick legal preparations to remove my belongings and move house – feeling guilty, I can only imagine – due to their mishandling of the Ripper case, and their failure to provide me with adequate protection. In any case, it was unwelcome. I had no intention of letting _him_ drive me from my home.”

Freddie snorted. “Guilt would require acknowledgment of error. That does not seem to be something Jack Crawford or his underlings are capable of.” She tilted her head, and regarded him closely. “I respect your decision to come back here,” she said, simply.

Frederick felt a little rush of pride, and – for once – was rather tongue-tied.

“I wonder,” she said, “If, given your refusal to let Hannibal Lecter call the shots, you might want to see this?”

“What is it?” Frederick asked, curious.

She put her cup on the table and turned to face him on the sofa. She reached for the laptop bag at her feet, unzipping it, and placing it on her lap. 

“Will Graham sent footage of what he thinks is Lecter in Paris,” she said. “I wasn’t sure if you would want to see it, or……”

Frederick took a breath. He waited for the familiar rising feeling of panic – but none came. He felt oddly calm. He set his jaw. ”I’d like to see it,” he said.

Frederick knew from his work with the worst of men that fear was usually the food of choice for serial killers. Depriving them of that deprived them of power. He fiercely wanted to make Hannibal as powerless as he had made him. He felt a quick, light touch on the back of his hand and looked up to see Freddie smiling at him, her eyes approving. She looked away again after a moment, turning her laptop on. Frederick took advantage of her attention being elsewhere to move infinitesimally closer on the sofa. 

Finding the file quickly, she played the video for him. The grainy footage ended quickly, and they were both silent. 

“What do you think?” she asked. He noticed that she kept her eyes on the screen, giving him time to compose himself, in case he had been thrown off-balance.

“The last time I saw him,” Frederick said, slowly, “he was standing over me in the hallway, dressed in a plastic suit. I thought…I was certain he was going to……” He took a sip of tea to regain his composure, wrapping his hands around the warm cup. “Seeing him like that, relaxed, wandering round a shop…it… _diminishes_ him.”

She turned, and looked him straight in the eyes. “Good,” she said decidedly, her face serious. She turned back to the screen. “There are about four more. Would you like to offer your opinion? Think of how it will annoy Jack Crawford to have to thank you for lending your eye.”

Frederick smiled, the prospect delighting him.

They watched the flickering images in relative silence, both offering occasional quiet comments. After about half an hour, he realised that Freddie had stopped making observations of her own – which was _most_ unlike her - and tearing his eyes from the screen, glanced down at her, only to find her very soundly asleep, the last two days having finally caught up with her. He felt a little rush of admiration. The fearless Miss Lounds. Who else could manage to doze off while watching footage of an escaped serial killer? He remembered watching her on the cameras when she had come to his hospital to interview Gideon, seemingly nerveless, strutting past the cells with only a dispassionate glance in passing.

Frederick looked down at her fondly. Rationalising that getting up would only disturb her, and would really be _horribly_ inconsiderate of him, he shifted slightly closer, until he could feel her shoulder lightly pressed against his arm. Freddie sighed, and he felt her weight shift to rest more heavily against him. Frederick relaxed against the cushions, feeling distinctly satisfied. His own eyelids felt heavy now. This room was drowsy on a sunny afternoon, and Freddie felt pleasantly warm against him. He suddenly wondered whether Alfredo’s tea was contributing something to his current contentment, and cast a sleepily suspicious glance at the cup on the table, but sleep overtook him before he could consider it further.

*****************

He was awakened, eventually, by Freddie starting to stir beside him. He felt inclined to complain about this disruptiveness, and pondered some pleasing ways to lull her back to sleep, before remembering that their current position was somewhat accidental and he did not – yet – have the right to do so. He sighed, and stretched his neck a little, and reluctantly opened his eyes – only to find Freddie looking back at him, bright and sharp as she was usually, her face amused. Her eyes glanced down quickly before flicking back to his face, and he followed them, only to find that he had apparently slung his arm over her waist while they slept.

“Miss Lounds…” he began, flustered, removing his arm and automatically reaching up to smooth his hair – knowing that it would be dishevelled after napping.

“Freddie,” she reminded him. She showed no inclination to move, warmly pressed against him side-by-side from shoulder to knee, and was seemingly completely unembarrassed. “I’m so sorry - I must’ve been exhausted. That’s what you get, though, plying me with herbal teas and a comfortable couch”

Frederick smiled crookedly, relieved by her apparent equanimity, regaining his balance a little. “You read to me for two weeks while I was in a coma. Allowing you to nap on my sofa seemed only polite.”

She smiled, and there was a moment of silence as they looked at each other, neither moving. Frederick decided – reluctantly - that pressing Freddie back against the cushions and enthusiastically seducing her when they had only been on a first-name basis for a couple of hours might be considered a faux-pas. He very, very badly wanted her to stay – but he very, very badly didn’t want to screw this up either. 

Freddie tilted her head, considering him. “We didn’t get much work done, today,” she said. “I’m free tomorrow, if you like?” She touched her hand lightly to his knee.

Frederick’s eyes flicked down to her hand, and back up to her eyes, and it was with some difficulty that he forced himself not to reach for her, but instead smile politely and agree, straightening up and reaching for his cane to help him rise from the couch. Freddie followed, and he walked her to the door. She turned to face him before she left, blue eyes keen on his.

“Thank-you for your hospitality, Frederick.”

“You’re always welcome, Miss Lounds,” he replied, hoping she caught the sincerity beneath the courtesy.

“Freddie,” she said, again. She stepped closer to him and raised a slim hand up to his face, carefully smoothing a lock of his hair back from his forehead, before turning quickly and leaving.

Frederick stood at the door and watched her drive off. The cool evening air was welcome on his flushed face.

**Author's Note:**

> Frederick probably could have taken things further here, and he's usually an opportunist - but I think his lack of romantic success in the past might have made him a little cautious - especially if it's someone he's very keen on, and not just a passing flirtation. 
> 
> It seemed plausible to me that vegetarian, salad-loving Freddie would like herbal teas.
> 
> Couldn't resist Alfredo. Who could ? ;)


End file.
